


Backstage

by vampiricrose



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Making Out, Neck Bites, Neck Kissing, Semi-Public Sex, This is Bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiricrose/pseuds/vampiricrose
Summary: Trickstar’s performance was difficult. Or, it was, to Mao. They performed a new song, and the mix of anxiety and the strain on his muscles for new moves has him frustrated, despite the ease of which he performed.
Relationships: Isara Mao/Sakuma Ritsu
Kudos: 50





	Backstage

**Author's Note:**

> what up im back here w my nsfw maoritsus after orphaning them   
> and idk why
> 
> anyway hiiiii ~~  
> i hope. y'all enjoy? this? ig? it took me 3 days to write and i hate it 
> 
> im bringing back some brat ritsu brat tamer mao because honestly if you think ritsus a sub you're most definitely gona go down brat ritsu route,,,

Trickstar’s performance was difficult. Or, it was, to Mao. They performed a new song, and the mix of anxiety and the strain on his muscles for new moves has him frustrated, despite the ease of which he performed.   
  
Though, he supposes the discomfort and irritation he feels is worth it, when he realises how well he  _ did _ perform. Makoto even comments on it, he looked perfect, despite his mention of nerves before they began. Bashful, he rubs the back of his neck. Did he really do that well? He doubts so. Maybe?   
  
Even with the praise from his unitmates, the odd feeling of irritation doesn’t go away. Is this because he’s stressed? He doesn’t feel stressed, but he’s been told before that when stressed, he can definitely snap at the smallest thing. Ritsu’s told him about it before.    
  
Well, told is the wrong word to use. It was more of Ritsu asking if Mao hated him, mind twisted into believing it from the amount of times Mao had responded to him with curt, snappy sentences.    
  
He doesn’t want that to happen again.   
  
Mao barely shuffles into a changing room before Ritsu throws himself onto him. He’s not even surprised at this point, Ritsu always sneaks in, as much as Mao scolds him it’s against the rules. He likes it, though. It’s some nice down-time, well-needed.   
  
“Maakun has such a scary look on his face,” Ritsu says, poking Mao’s cheek. Mao breaks out of his stupor; what do you mean scary? Elaborating, Ritsu explains that it’s how his lips are twisted into a frown, eyebrows furrowed, jaw locked up. Maybe he should take a bubble bath? It’s a good de-stresser.   
  
Ah.    
Ritsu’s caught on - ever the observant. He wonders if Ritsu learned those talents back from the war.    
  
His eyes are gentle, full of concern. Shimmering red, breaking through the darkness. Pretty, soft red lips shine, hiding pearly white fangs. God, his fangs - Mao almost forgot. He’s still scared of sharp things, but he knows Ritsu’s fangs are an exception. Definitely.   
  
“Maakun?”   
Mao moves without thinking, locking lips and pulling him onto his lap. Ritsu makes a soft noise, surprised at the sudden movement. He eases into it as Mao’s hand rolls through his hair, digging into his scalp and getting shivers down his spine.    
  
He begins getting startlingly warm in his jacket as Ritsu hooks his legs around his back, leaning in to start open-mouthed kisses, barely staying quiet enough to avoid being caught. Heavy breaths and shuffles of clothing.    
  
Honestly, Mao can’t bring himself to care if they do get caught. Every ugly thought and feeling he’s had is melted away through Ritsu’s warmth, dripping out through shared breaths. Separating their mouths for a second, they both get a well-needed break. Mao’s mouth hooks onto Ritsu’s shoulder, shirt slipping down from their movements and his teeth dig in.   
  
Trailing his mouth further up, he leaves butterfly kisses. Ritsu moves to expose his neck, and Mao knows that the sign of submission is not one Ritsu gives out easily. If anything, he feels more excited at the action.    
  
He bites; his teeth aren’t sharp enough to draw blood, but they’re tough enough to make Ritsu jump at each nip of delicate, pale skin. Ritsu’s breath hitches, voices outside making him tense up. Mao doesn’t move his mouth away, instead staying still. Warm breath on his skin causes Ritsu to tremble, hand moving to cover his mouth from any unwanted noises possibly escaping him.   
  
Ritsu’s hips naturally grind down, despite his efforts to avoid his movement, shaky and stuttering rolls of his waist. Mao grinds back up, smoother movements compared to Ritsu. The voices leave, and Mao’s hands move to the outside of Ritsu’s thighs.   
  
Biting his neck again, Mao pushes Ritsu down against him. Shuddering, Ritsu’s voice comes out, even with his hand clamped hard against his mouth. It’s a quiet whine, and Mao moves his mouth off him, looking at the dark red teeth-marks.    
  
They both know how this is gonna end - but it’s nice, to not be in a rush to finish it so soon. Mao’s hips languidly roll up, going up in a repetitive rhythm. Ritsu moves his neck back into a normal position, breathing in heavily as Mao hooks his thumbs around his waistband.   
  
“Lube?” Mao questions, digging around in his pockets. He has none, and Ritsu shakes his head. Why would he bring lube? He didn’t expect him meeting him to go this way. Mao sniggers; maybe Ritsu should have lube on him at all times. It’d be convenient, right?   
  
Ritsu suggests just using spit as lube. They’ve done that before. But, Mao points out, it’s not as good as real lube. It’ll look awfully suspicious if Ritsu came out with a limp with his face red. They’ve barely avoided that happening before - only getting away with it by saying that Ritsu had fallen over.   
  
“But, if Maakun wants to fuck me so bad…” Ritsu begins, voice sultry and shuffling his pants down his hips, tossing them onto the floor. He hooks his legs over his shoulders, eyes lidded with lust, “why doesn’t he just fuck my thighs?”   
  
His thighs?   
This is one of those things Mao knows Ritsu has thought about before; considered the confidence of how he recommended it to him. It’s arousing to think of - he knows this won’t give Ritsu any direct pleasure, sexually, but the thought of getting off on him and not letting him cum gives him feelings of dominance stirring in him that showed up earlier, when Ritsu exposed his neck to him.   
  
Mao moves forward to suck on the inside of his thighs, listening to Ritsu’s soft exhalation of breath. His hand goes to palm at himself, and Mao slams his hand away. Not enough to hurt - enough for Ritsu to know he’s not allowed to do that.   
  
“Maakun’s gonna be cruel, huh?” Ritsu teases, squeezing his thighs together and forcing Mao to move his head away. “Going to make me beg?” He continues - moving his hands up to get Mao’s pants and underwear down in one movement, not getting  _ too _ far down from his own body weight holding it in place.   
  
Mao’s cock stands alert. His hand slides into Ritsu’s mouth, shutting him up, and shoving his finger down his throat. He knows Ritsu has a gag reflex, but he’s not far down enough to trigger it. Yet. If Ritsu is a brat, he’ll choke him.    
  
Reminding Ritsu of the safeword, he grabs his hand and moves them to Mao’s outer thigh. Ritsu can’t speak - so they thought of something else. If Ritsu taps twice, Mao stops. It gives him reassurance to continue when he moves his hand away, and he fucks his mouth with his fingers.   
  
Drool trickles down Ritsu’s chin, enough to pool down at his exposed thighs, and Mao would find it gross if he wasn’t so hard. He moves his hand out, breathing heavy at the lines of spit connecting his fingers and Ritsu’s tongue. Ritsu’s eyelids are heavy, and he stays still as Mao rubs it between his thighs. There’s not enough, and Mao puts his hand back down his throat.   
  
His index and middle finger hook around the back of his tongue, grabbing onto saliva and pulling it back out. Ritsu gags at the movement, and Mao waits a moment to see if Ritsu’s hands will move. They don’t, so he continues moving his hand to his thigh.   
  
It’s wet enough to thrust into to feel good, he thinks. He’d imagine thrusting into something with no wetness wouldn’t be the best feeling and he’s proven correct as his dick slowly moves between his skin. It’s not as tight as Ritsu’s throat or ass is, but it feels different. It’s not bad.   
  
However, he doesn’t expect Ritsu to shudder. He honestly didn’t think it’d feel good for Ritsu, but he’s proven differently, as the head of his dick rubs hard against his taint. It looks as if Ritsu didn’t expect it to feel good, either, covering his mouth as he grinds against Mao’s cock between his thighs.    
  
“Mmm? No, no, you’re not getting to cum,” Mao teases, moving at such a distance that he can thrust in, but not hit that sweet spot Ritsu likes. “Not before I do.”   
  
Ritsu groans, trying to get it back. He isn’t even caring to keep quiet anymore - dick hard through his underwear, straining against the fabric. Ritsu’s in a bratty mood, he could tell the moment he walked in, and Mao won’t give him what he wants.   
  
Trying to get some friction again, Ritsu palms himself. Mao snaps his hand to his wrists, what did he tell him? Giggling, Ritsu continues to grind hard against nothing. Let him do his thing, Maakun.    
  
Clicking his tongue, Mao pins both his wrists in front of him. His spare hand grabs Ritsu’s ass, fucking into his thighs again. It’s nicer now, Ritsu’s thighs are twitching from arousal, and he’s pressing them together. Tight - it’s tight, Mao realises, and it reminds him of whenever he fucks Ritsu normally, clenching and unclenching in arousal.   
  
Ritsu whines as Mao’s grip gets harder, bouncing on his dick as Mao’s thrusts get more ragged. He knows he’s gonna cum soon, and he sees a damp spot appear on Ritsu’s underwear from leaking precum.    
  
“Be  _ good _ ,” Mao growls, letting go of Ritsu’s wrists and moving it to put both of his hands on his ass as he fucks up, harder. His eyes snap to Ritsu when he sees his hands move, but instead of touching himself, he’s pumping Mao’s cock between his thighs. Mao’s hips are barely moving at this point, instead, grinding violently side-to-side.   
  
He leans forward and bites Ritsu’s neck, hard, as precum is rubbed all over his dick. He swears he sees Ritsu pull his cock out of his underwear, but he’s too far gone to call him out on it. The seat beneath them is getting stained with spit, sweat and cum, but Mao knows he can just wipe it off.   
  
Ritsu furiously jerks both of them off, and the second Mao cums, he bites down hard enough to finally break the skin on Ritsu’s neck. Blood trickles down his neck and puddle slightly at his collarbone, and Mao’s tongue trails the droplets.   
  
Mao’s stuck in a haze, riding out his orgasm to the best of his ability. His hands rub circles in Ritsu’s hair, who’s hunched over him and resting his head on his shoulder as his body spasms in bliss. He wonders how loud they were being. Were there still people outside? Probably not - they’ve been in here a while. It’s lucky that he had nothing to do after the performance, he doubts they’d be so lucky.   
  
“Ritchan?” He whispers out, once finally regaining composure of himself. Gently brushing the pad of his thumb against the bite mark on Ritsu’s neck, he looks him up and down to see how he’s doing. Did Ritsu cum? He thinks he did, judging by his quivering in Mao’s arms. Again, Mao says his name, and Ritsu responds by humming with a shaky voice.   
  
Ritsu’s face is red, hair sticking to his forehead and his shirt falling off his shoulders. He’s a mess. Mao likes this look for him, though.    
  
Hooking his hands around Ritsu’s underarms, he lays him down on the seat so he can get changed. Ritsu seems to not be fully awake, breathing slowly and deeply akin to how he breathes when he’s sleeping.   
  
Mao ignores the stains on his outfit. Hopefully they’ll come off by next performance? If not, he doubts anyone will notice it. At least not from afar. Maybe he’ll get questioned by Hokuto. He’s the one to notice that sort of thing.    
  
Ritsu grabs Mao from behind when he’s finishing buttoning his shirt up. Latching onto him, burying his head in his shoulder, signs that Ritsu needs some TLC. Mao feels bad - he didn’t even give Ritsu any aftercare, just left him in the chair.   
  
“C’mon. Let’s go to your place,” Mao says, reaching his arms back to grab onto Ritsu. Ritsu groans. He doesn’t wanna walk. Carry him… his legs feel like jelly, and his thighs ache. Laughing, Mao agrees. Did he really bruise Ritsu’s thighs from fucking them? Is that even possible? It might’ve been from his grip.    
  
Carrying Ritsu bridal-style is always easier, Mao learned. He’s unsure as to why he insists on carrying him on his back. But, he thinks afterglow Ritsu wouldn’t appreciate being lugged over his shoulder, so he goes against his consistent style and carries him against his chest, listening to his soft breaths.   
  
Ritsu smiles when Mao drags him into bed, skin against skin and Ritsu mentions how the previously mentioned stress had completely gone from Mao. He’s not tensed up, he specifically mentions, digging his fingers into sore muscles. Mao hisses, that hurts, don’t press down that hard.    
  
Of course, Ritsu sticks his tongue out in response, but moves his hand back anyway. Maakun’s mean, let him do what he wants. Mao tilts his head. That reminds him, he did that earlier, didn’t he? He did what he wanted, when Mao said not to.   
  
“Is Maakun gonna punish me?”   
“Maybe tomorrow. I’m tired,” Mao says - feigning complete innocence to Ritsu’s obvious innuendo. It’s not as if he didn’t catch on, he’s learned to tolerate Ritsu’s lewd quips, but he knows far too well they’ll both pass out if they fuck.   
  
Yawning, Ritsu digs his forehead into Mao’s chest. He’s been half asleep for a while now, his speech slurred by lethargy, but he finally decides to let himself sleep. Mao’s hands run through his hair, listening to his heartbeat.    
  
“Nnn… g’night, Maakun…” Ritsu finally says, shook awake by Mao gently wrapping his arm around his waist. Mao kisses his forehead, trying to fall asleep as well.

**Author's Note:**

> thnkies for reading. i hope y'all have a good day - stay indoors, stay safe


End file.
